He was standing in front of me.
Just,
Him,
And, me.
Cute glasses.
Blonde hair.
Maybe,
Luscious sparkly blue eyes.
Sexy,
Very sexy.
Freckles?
Maybe.
But something was of.
Something big.
He liked me.
The girl,
Who everybody else,
Hated.
He stood up for me.
Defended me.
He was perfect.
And I asked him,
One simple question.
And he answered,
One simple answer.
I asked,
Why would someone like you,
Even want,
To hang out with me?
And he replied,
With two words.
Why not?
YOU ARE READING
Pomes
PoetryMy teacher's have always told me I was poetic, so I'm going to share my "talent", with you guys. Keep in mind I'm only 12 years old.
